Dean had spelled his entire name in his signature on all the payroll checks. The checks made out to cash relied on initials and some of them appeared questionable. The stroke lines in the signatures were forced and the cancelled checks seemed like they’d been deliberately crumpled to keep the eye from noticing the difference. After about a year of cancelled checks, they stopped. I assumed the bank had moved to digital check display since they showed up on the statement but not on paper in the files. I didn’t have access to the bank accounts and couldn’t follow the trail any further in the office.
I needed access to the bank records and company bank accounts to see the digital cancelled checks. I’d managed to avoid speaking to either Patrick or Dean for three whole days, and I didn’t want to start now. I was avoiding them. I’ll admit it. Unfortunately, asking for bank access wasn’t something you could do over text message. It necessitated a conversation.
Suck it up and just do it. Damn it.
After a few deep breaths, I picked up the phone and dialed. See, I could be a grown up.
The phone rang almost four times before relief washed over me. Maybe I could just leave a message. I waited, anxious for the voicemail to pick up but a graveled, husky voice rumbled on the other end instead. Even over the phone, Dean’s voice sent shivers down my spine.
“I need bank access,” I blurted out.
“What?”
“I need to know who has been making deposits and withdrawals,” I said, trying to get him to agree without having to explain. After the display in my kitchen the other night, Jade and I had never gotten around to telling Dean about Jackson’s mysterious influx of funds.
He was silent on the other end, his heavy breathing the only indication he was still there. I dug in and prepared for a long uncomfortable conversation.
“You’re missing money,” I said.
He remained quiet on the other end of the phone.
“Dean?”
“I’m here,” he said with a fire in his voice that melted my self-control. I should have been quivering in fear of that tone but I wasn’t.
I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.
“I’ll be there in half an hour,” he growled and the line went dead.
Oh great! Just what I needed.
Dean was true to his word and entered the reception area within 29 minutes of hanging up the phone. I know because I counted. His power sizzled in the reception area ahead of him before he ever reached my office door.
“Good afternoon, sir. Can I be of assistance?” Tamika sang in her bright, cheery voice. Dean stood before the reception desk, tall and intimidating, but Tamika didn’t seem bothered by him or the impressive expanse of his chest. He was dressed in jeans covered in what I assumed to be dry wall dust, and a dirty white T-shirt.
As I ran my eyes over his tall, bulging form, I noticed a big white hand print on the side of his thigh. Chuckling to myself, I imagined the dirty man I saw in reception running a multimillion-dollar construction firm. The two visuals didn’t add up. At the sound of my laughter, his eyes found me with a predatory glare of possession in them that made me warm and tingly in places that a mere gaze shouldn’t touch. I smiled before I realized it. I cleared my throat and straightened. I was in the office for Christ’s sakes.
“You can turn off the charm, Tamika. It’s the boss,” I said with a friendly smile.
“Miss Dahlia, I don’t know what you mean,” she said, shaking her head with an innocent who-me? expression on her face. She smiled brightly at him. By the glimmer in his eye and the slight upturn of his lips, I knew I wouldn’t have a problem keeping Tamika on full time.
“Mr. Trevelyan Dean,” I said with a wave of formality to my introduction. “Please meet Tamika Lunsford.”
“Please call me Dean,” he said in his rich baritone. He glanced at me again and took the several steps in my direction, closing the distance with determination.
I moved out of the doorway and gave Dean the space to stride into my office. Peeking my head around the corner, I said, “Hey, Tamika—”
“No phone calls, right?” she asked without missing a beat.
“You got it.” I closed the door without a sound, trying to ignore the large, anxious werewolf in the room with me. I had to turn around and face him sometime. Now was as good a time as any. Turning, I pressed my back against the closed door, and opened my eyes. He was grinning at me.
“I like her,” he said.
“I would have asked.” It occurred to me I hadn’t actually run that decision by him for approval. I still wasn’t sure what the boundaries were. Mostly, I didn’t have boundaries and did whatever the hell I wanted. I never stopped to think he might not be okay with that arrangement.
“You were avoiding me,” he said as the smile fell from his eyes.
“I was not,” I protested. A good foot stomp would have been appropriate to finish off that statement.
He leaned against the desk and folded his arms over his large muscular chest, glaring at me like he knew better.
“All right, I was avoiding you,” I admitted, throwing my hands into the air as I crumbled under his stern gaze.
“You’re avoiding Pat, too,” he admonished.
I released a long breath and sucked my bottom lip between my teeth. Yes, I had been avoiding him, too.
“He told you?” My tone sounded more contrite than the indignation I’d been hoping for.
“You could say that,” he said, his words cryptic as he rubbed his jaw.
“What does that mean?”
Dean shook his head. He wasn’t going to tell me. I strode over to the window overlooking High Street. People crowded around the bus stop at the corner, oblivious to the world around them. I envied them that.
“I’m sorry I got you involved in my mess,” I murmured. I wanted him to say something so I wouldn’t feel so guilty or so trapped.
“The Masquerade is tonight?” he said. “You’re going?”
“Yes,” I said, turning with a slight smile. “I know how important this is.” I sat down in the chair in front of him on the wrong side of the desk.
He stared down at me with a question in his eyes.
I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair. “Look, I know I’ve been acting childish over the last few days but I needed some time to myself. I needed to be able to focus on something other than preternatural politics and, quite frankly,” I said, slamming my hands down on the armrest of the chair, “I was pissed as hell at the two of you for keeping it from me.”
He smiled at me. A bright, full smile that lit up his eyes.
“Feel better?” he asked, hopping up onto the edge of the desk.
Truth be told, I did. I’d been holding all of that in since I stormed out of Patrick’s office, not really letting my anger take root. I’d allowed the hurt and betrayal to be in charge instead of my anger.
“I do,” I said with a relief-filled breath.
“Good, now, what are you talking about me missing money?” There was a laugh in his voice that I adored and hoped was just for me. He was too serious too often.
I got up and retrieved all the paperwork I’d found and explained what I’d discovered. He watched me in silence as I laid everything out for him. He pored over all the documents, flipping through the cancelled checks.
“You think this was Jackson,” he said. It was a statement, not a question.
“I do. I had Jade start digging into his finances a few days ago and he’s had a steady influx of funds to his accounts, totaling around $90,000. He’s deposited it into a Cayman account, a Swiss account, and I believe Jade said an IRA.”
Dean stared at me, his usually full lips a thin line of anger.
“You had Jade look in to his accounts long before coming here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?” he asked. He pushed off the desk and strolled to the window then folded his arms over his chest and focused his eyes on the street below.
Honestly, I didn’t know. How do I explain a feeling?
“Well,” I said as I stood and started to pace. “I don’t really know.” He turned to evaluate me. His gaze met mine with a ferocity that threatened to bring me to my knees. God, I wanted him to touch me.
“Yes, you do,” he growled.
“He challenged you outright and he continues to do it. You just stand by and let it happen,” I said, astonished at myself. I was angry. Angry at Patrick for keeping secrets, angry at Danny for dying, and angry at Dean for making me care.
Dean took a step toward me then stopped. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood stark still as I seethed in my deep well, filled with years of loss, loneliness, and rage.
“I can’t just watch that man take whatever he wants and not do something about it.” I almost snarled at him, incensed at the entire situation.
Dean’s nostrils flared and he breathed in my scent. His fingers twitched over his bicep but he didn’t move. He was waiting for me, like he said. He wouldn’t force me. It didn’t even look like he was willing to make the first move.
“I can’t challenge him, Dahlia. He’s my Beta. It’s my job to protect him,” he admitted.
My mind raced. He couldn’t challenge Jackson. That’s not how the hierarchy went; up, not down. He could discipline Jackson all he wanted, though. Dean and I both knew that, but nothing was going to get Jackson in line. I couldn’t connect the streams together between Jackson’s $90,000 and Dean’s missing $102,000 but I knew in my gut Jackson had been stealing from Dean.
There was no one else.
Dean’s hands were tied, but mine weren’t.
“You can have any access you want. I trust you,” he said with more heart in his words than I was prepared for.
I glared at him. “Maybe you should stop trusting people. That’s how you got into this mess in the first place,” I teased but I meant what I said.
He smirked at me. “You’re right.”
“I usually am.” I circled the desk and sat down in my chair. Dean followed me around and stood beside me. Taking one of the notepads lying on the desk next to my hand, he scribbled across the pages. When he was finished, he tossed the paper on the desk in front of me and dropped the pen.
“There’s everything you need. Access codes, account numbers, passwords, and logins. Hell, put your name on the accounts if you want. Change the codes and passwords. Do whatever you need to do, but get that information,” he ordered.
I nodded and took the pad.
He stalked to the door, grabbed the doorknob, and paused but didn’t look back. “You’re coming tonight?”
“I am.”
“Then I’ll see you later,” he said and opened the door. He was out of sight in a second. “Bye, Tamika. Keep up the good work,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
An emptiness and longing filled me that I didn’t understand. It was the same emptiness that followed his departures every time. His warm caress of power was gone and those olive-green eyes were no longer peering at me with longing.
I had a job to do. I didn’t have time to focus on the emotional bullshit flittering around me like bees in a swarm.
I glanced down at my watch. I had a little over six hours, maybe seven if I pushed it, before I had to get ready for the masquerade.
Maybe I could just have Jade bring my costume here, which would give me a good eight hours. See, things were already looking up.
Chapter 18
Turns out I didn’t need eight hours. I didn’t even need six. Once I had access to the bank records, via Dean’s personal access codes, I had everything. I stopped by the bank and filled out the paperwork to put myself on the accounts and take Jackson off for good measure. It would irk Jackson to know I was responsible for cutting off his funding source. That thought made me all warm and fuzzy inside.
I’d taken everything home with me to cross reference with Jade’s information. I was up getting ready for the Masquerade when Jade screamed a giddy, girly squeal I would never have imagined could come out of her. I ran downstairs to NORAD in the basement in my robe and heavy makeup.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, sliding on the epoxy floor that Dean had insisted I have installed. It was slippery in my wet bare feet.
“I got the bastard,” she shrieked with a satisfied little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth up.
“Found what?” I asked, anticipation making my adrenaline skyrocket.
“Jackson was actually stupid enough to deposit one of those checks directly into his account,” she said, smiling at me.
I paced, tying my silk robe just a little tighter around my waist. I stopped and took a good long look at her. Kurt walked above us, his heavy feet thundering on the floor above. I peered back down at Jade’s searching gaze. She wasn’t going to like what I had to say.
“Look, Jade, I know you were looking forward to going to the Masquerade tonight,” I said, an apology in my tone. Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded in resignation. “I need you to figure out what he’s doing with that money. I need to know before the Manit tomorrow night. I don’t want to have to wait for another moon cycle to take care of this. He’s too dangerous to leave to chance.” I paused. “To be honest, I don’t want you anywhere near him,” I added, focusing my gaze on her. I hoped it was enough.
“I don’t, either,” Kurt said from behind me.
If she wouldn’t listen to me, maybe she would listen to him.
“Kurt, I need you to stay with her,” I said, not giving her a chance to object.
“Is that an order?” he asked with a small grin. The wolves I knew best were having too much fun with this Eithina bullshit, trying to prove a fucking point.
“Yes,” I snapped.
Jade glanced from Kurt to me with confusion furrowing her brow.
“Then I’ll call our Gaoh and let him know what our Eithina has decreed,” he said with a smirk. Grabbing his cell phone, Kurt headed up the stairs.
“What was that all about?” Jade asked as she arched an interested eyebrow at me.
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out, myself,” I snapped and followed Kurt up the stairs. I had a costume to squeeze into.
Zipping up the boots along the back of my thigh, I folded over the leather covering the top of my knee. Fishnet hose wove a diamond pattern across my thighs, highlighting the muscularity of my legs. A black leotard cut high through the thigh, hugging my body and revealing a bit more of my pelvis than I was comfortable. I had long legs and the four-inch heels with the extension from the leotard gave my legs the appearance that they went on for miles.
Kurt helped me with the bright white corset, tugging the laces with werewolf strength until I had to beg him to stop and loosen some of the laces. I should have been ashamed or embarrassed that Kurt was lacing me into this contraption but I wasn’t. I had an overwhelming sense that he belonged to me. In my heart of hearts, I knew he’d do anything I asked of him. That knowledge scared me more than I wanted to admit. It also helped that he didn’t seem uncomfortable as he laced me up. We talked about the Yankees game and A-Rod’s hitting streak. Somehow, talking about sports nullified the fact he was lacing me into a corset. Go figure.
I strapped the first sheath around my forearm. Patrick had had a set specially made for me. It held six half-inch thick stakes, one for each arm. One set of stakes was iron for the Fae, sitting on my left arm and silver stakes for everything else on my right. I slipped a small can of mace into the top of my boot along the inside of my thigh and attached a leather bullwhip with iron spikes threaded in the fall like thorns to my
hip. A present from Alex for the occasion.
Kurt stood back and handed me the deep, blood-red, satin tuxedo tailcoat. I slipped it on over the two sheathes on my forearms and checked my movement. The only thing that made it hard to move was the damned corset but it was doable. It would have to do but I looked good.
I’d wrapped my hair in a tight French twist, held in place with a lot of pins and a lot of hair spray. I placed the simple black lace eye mask over my eyes and pressed down, letting the adhesive do its job as the mask covered my face from hairline to hairline on either side of my eyes. Grabbing the black satin top hat, I felt the inside lining and made sure the iron throwing stars were securely inside. Iron throwing stars were harder to find but not nearly as expensive as the pure silver ones. I angled the top hat on my head and patted it once to secure it over my hair.
“Humph,” Kurt snorted behind me.
I turned and glared at him over my shoulder.
“What?” I twisted to catch a glimpse at my butt in the mirror. Maybe I didn’t look as good as I thought I did? What was he looking at?
“I’d kill a man who looked at Jade in an outfit like that,” he said, giving me the weary eye of a man dating a beautiful woman. “I don’t want to know what they’ll do. I’m glad we won’t be there,” he huffed behind me and left. I shrugged my shoulders and studied my reflection.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. This Ring Master outfit is hot,” I said under my breath.
“That’s the problem,” he growled.
With still an hour and a half before full dark, I strode into Damsel knowing Patrick was already awake. I’d felt him wake in a rush of sickening, overwhelming anxiety and anticipation in my gut before he had a chance to shut down his shields between us.
Climbing the stairs to Patrick’s office, I knew he wasn’t alone. Dean’s warmth pushed against my skin as his power and Patrick’s mingled inside me, causing an icy-hot sensation that made me shiver.
Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) Page 17